


If a Tree Falls in the Apartment

by Costellos



Category: South Park
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costellos/pseuds/Costellos
Summary: All Kyle wanted for his birthday was to go camping, but Craig can't even let him have that.





	If a Tree Falls in the Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lil something to celebrate Season 21 :)

When Craig had asked him what he wanted to do for his 28th birthday, Kyle told his boyfriend the same thing he’d been practically begging him to do since they first got together: to go on a weekend camping trip in the mountains, just the two of them, no phones, no computers, and no distractions. Craig wasn’t ecstatic about the prospect of getting eaten alive by mosquitos and sleeping on the ground, but he begrudgingly agreed to it nonetheless. Kyle had kissed him excitedly and told him that he couldn’t wait, that making love under the stars would be totally worth all the bug bites and grass stains, he promised. Craig’s only response to that was a scoff and pulling Kyle back into bed and making him late for work.

That was two weeks ago. Now Kyle is standing in the middle of their modest two-bedroom, second floor apartment, peering into the living room from the entryway with a look one-part confusion and two-parts disappointment, because he thought he’d been pretty clear when he told Craig what he’d wanted.

“Craig?”

“Hey.” Craig pops up seemingly from out of nowhere, emerging from behind with his arms loaded up with pillows from their bed. He gives Kyle a quick impersonal peck on the cheek as he passes by, then dumps the pillows on the ground where the coffee table should be. “You’re home early.”

“I figured we’d finish getting everything ready sooner if I helped,” Kyle explains. He wants to mention how he was hoping to leave while there’s still ample daylight but decides not to since, judging by the looks of their living room, neither of them are actually going anywhere. He watches Craig toss a few of the pillows into the small two-person tent pitched in place of the armchair and the floor lamp before straightening up and cracking his back.

“I said I’d take care of it, didn’t I?”

“You definitely said you’d do something,” Kyle mumbles. “Tell me, exactly what is it that you’re doing? Because I have no idea what the hell is going on in here.”

Craig snorts. Either he doesn’t notice the ridiculing undertone in Kyle’s voice or he simply doesn’t care. “It was supposed to be a surprise but it’s not ready yet. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he says, making his way across the room with the slightest upturn of his lips. He backs Kyle into the doorframe like a cornered animal.

“Happy birthday, babe,” he whispers low against the shell of Kyle’s ear, then leans in to steal a kiss. This one is more tender and intimate than the last, though it’s still short, and Craig lingers afterwards; but Kyle is too busy fuming internally over his boyfriend’s choice of words to be swept off his feet. Craig is mocking him. It’s not often that Craig calls him “babe” or any other endearing pet name for that matter, and when he does it’s either out of sarcasm or on the off chance that he’s feeling especially sentimental. Most of the time it’s the former.

“This isn’t funny,” Kyle complains, forcing his way through Craig’s blockade. He deliberately ignores Craig’s shadowing gaze as he steps around the camping display that is his living room now to get to the only remaining piece of furniture. Craig calls foul the second his ass touches the loveseat.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing?”

“There aren’t any couches in the woods.”

“Yeah, well, there isn’t air conditioning either, but who gives a shit,” Kyle snaps. Craig stares at him until he throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine, whatever!” He shoots up and heads for the kitchen. Craig, still, is unyielding.

“There aren’t any kitchens in the woods, either.”

“Then what am I supposed to eat!”

Craig nods down at a small, blue cooler next to the tent. He pulls out a pack of hot dogs and a couple perspiring bottles of water. Kyle can feel his blood pressure rising.

“And I’m supposed to eat those _raw?”_

“There’s a grill on the patio.”

“Well we might as well just grab a pile of sticks and cook them over an open flame, since, you know, there probably aren’t any grills in the forest, either,” he mocks. Despite his challenging glare, Craig continues to test him.

“I guess I can take the batteries out of the smoke detector.”

“Ugh!” Kyle lets himself erupt, just a little, lest he completely explode; Craig just watches him with indifference. He’s preparing to fire off into a lengthy tirade about how absolutely _horrible_ Craig is and how he can sleep on the couch alone tonight until the sound of an owl trapped somewhere in their living room throws him off guard. “What the fuck is that!”

“Animal sounds,” Craig says, motioning toward his laptop which is hooked up to the surround sound system. “Found some clips on YouTube.” At this point, the only thing keeping him alive is the fact that Kyle hasn’t taken out a life insurance policy on him yet.

By the grace of some unnamed deity, Kyle is somehow able to edge back from the cusp of detonation enough to settle down. With his back against the couch on the living room floor, he flips through the channels on TV while he has the chance with Craig temporarily occupied with grilling up the hotdogs outside. He’s forced to forfeit his last hold on civilization and turn it off when he comes back in.

“I also got the stuff to make s’mores, if you want. It’s in the kitchen,” Craig says, handing Kyle a paper plate with two hotdogs. Of course, they’re plain, because “Isn’t that’s how you’re supposed to eat them out in the middle of nowhere?” Who knew Craig would be such a camping purist. Kyle wishes that he wasn’t.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is everything just a joke to you?” Kyle puts his food down and pushes it away. He’s had enough of sitting on the floor with the lights off, listening to the same five-minute YouTube clip of leaves rustling and crickets chirping play over and over. “Would it seriously have killed you to indulge me for just _once_ in your life? All I wanted for my birthday was to go camping. That’s it!”

“You’ve been acting like a dick since you got home. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that you don’t give a shit about what I want!”

Craig doesn’t respond to that. He looks at Kyle, frustration evident in his slightly knitted brows, but clearly biting back his words nonetheless. If he’s trying to choose them carefully for once, Kyle can’t tell, but he’s not sticking around to find out, either. He storms off the second Craig opens his mouth.

Out on the patio, Kyle can breathe easier with some fresh air and some distance between the two of them; it’s not a lot, but it’s enough to help calm his nerves. He stands off to the side so that he’s out of Craig’s immediate line of sight and leans into the wrought iron railing, looking out over the empty clearing that is their backyard. The farthest edges are lined with trees that lead into a swath of forest that stretches as far as the eye can see. He sighs.

Was it really so hard for Craig to drag himself out of the apartment for two days? Or did Craig simply get off on seeing his hopes crash and burn? He always knew Craig was a little sadistic, but he never thought he could be so uncaring. Maybe he’d expected too much.

The low rumble of rolling thunder off in the distance steals Kyle’s attention from the wall of swaying trees. _It sounds like it’s going to rain,_ he thinks, looking up at the late afternoon sky as a cool gust of wind whistles and whisks past him, mussing his hair and flapping his shirt collar around. The door behind him slides open just as the realization hits him, along with the first drop of rain.

“You should probably come inside before it starts storming. It’s supposed to be like this all weekend.”

Kyle looks at his awkward, towering boyfriend standing in the middle of the patio, sporting his default look of disinterest once again. The tone of his voice is anything but. “You knew?”

“Yeah, and so should you. I texted you earlier that we’d probably have to put things off. There’s warnings about mudslides and all kinds of shit.”

Kyle scoffs. Of course Craig would know that, always keeping tabs on the Weather Channel like some sort of unhealthy obsession; ironic for someone who barely goes outside. Either way, he must’ve somehow missed Craig’s texts, and now there’s no way to know for sure since Craig has both of their phones on lockdown.

“I know how excited you were to go camping and everything, so I thought that this would at least be a nice consolation prize, or something.” Craig shrugs and looks away. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Hey -- _I’m_ sorry, okay?” Kyle panics. He already feels like a total jackass; he doesn’t need Craig’s rare show of vague embarrassment and shame to rub it in. “It’s great, really, I love it. I just -- I thought you were fucking with me, you know, since you --”

Kyle stops. He needs to tread carefully; spinning this into a critique about Craig and his flaws isn’t going to make things any better, no matter how nerve-wracking they may be. He’s the one in the wrong here.

“I’m sorry.”

“Come eat before your food gets cold,” Craig orders, hardly acknowledging Kyle’s somber apology outside of a half-hearted eyeroll. Kyle knows it’s not that he doesn’t accept it, but simply that he doesn’t know how to; getting an honest apology out of him is not an often occurrence, after all. Kyle laughs and follows him inside, nearly missing the way Craig’s features soften and flush when he thinks he’s not being watched.

Back in the apartment, Kyle doesn’t complain anymore about being forced to sit on the ground, nor does he gripe about his tasteless, lukewarm hotdogs. He listens intently as Craig recalls—at his request—the only ghost story that he knows with spotty memory, and when he starts to get frustrated over his lack of prepared activities he concedes to letting Kyle watch TV, but only National Geographic. S’mores are put off until later when they can figure out how to make them without creating a fire hazard.

When the sun is nearly set, Craig hops up and turns off the television and all the lights. “One more thing,” he says, and disappears momentarily into their bedroom. He comes back out with a box. Kyle crane his neck to try and read the label before he sinks to his knees behind the couch, but it’s hard to make out anything in the dark.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

There’s some rustling and clanking, then whatever it is that Craig has whirrs to life. The room is suddenly illuminated with hundreds of colorful specks of lights, dancing and rotating around the room on every possible surface. Craig stands up. In the light of the projector, Kyle can see the corners of his lips fighting to keep straight.

“Really?”

“You said you wanted to see the stars.”

“Yeah, but.” Kyle can’t keep from laughing. Apparently it’s infectious, because Craig finally cracks a smile, too. He comes and sits back down next to him. “Where did you even get that? And on such short notice?”

Craig shrugs. “Toys R Us.”

“Jesus, Craig.”

Eventually their laughter subsides and they settle down into a comfortable silence, the two of them laying side by side on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling. The planetarium projector clicks and hums noisily in the background, making it hard for Kyle to pretend that the stars and planets are real. In fact, the longer he stares at them, the more he realizes that the planets are sort of fuzzy and lacking detail.

“This thing sucks,” Craig mumbles, voicing Kyle’s inner thoughts for him.

“Yeah, well, considering where it came from…” He smirks. Craig grunts and elbows him in the side. Kyle can hardly stifle his laughter. “No, but seriously. It’s not… _that_ bad.”

“I’m taking it back first thing Monday.”

“Probably for the best,” Kyle agrees readily. He looks over at Craig, suddenly more interested in the outline of his boyfriend’s sharp facial features than the lightshow. “Hey, Craig?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything,” he says, unable to find the right words to truly express his gratitude. There aren’t any. He’s still in awe at the fact that Craig had seriously gone through all this trouble just to make his birthday worthwhile, and honestly, it’s almost enough to make him choke up, seeing for himself firsthand just how much Craig cares about him.

Craig doesn’t respond for some time. When he does, he heaves a sigh and leans over, kissing Kyle first on the lips, and then on the forehead, before dragging him closer into his side. “Happy birthday, Kyle,” he says softly.

“Oh, so it’s not ‘babe’ anymore, huh?”

Kyle laughs when Craig pinches his waist.

The two of them spend the rest of the evening on their backs on the living room floor, the prospect of s’mores entirely forgotten, wordless and content in one another’s arms as the faux crickets chirp in the background. Even with the drone of the air conditioning and the occasional power short from the projector sending the entire room into temporary darkness, Kyle can’t think of a time he’d ever felt so at ease. This might not be the authentic camping trip he’d been hoping for, but it’s definitely the best birthday he’s ever had.


End file.
